Suedehead

I’m sorry

The night is nearly ending, and I’m sorry

The first rays of morning

The fresh dew shinning

Like glass hidden in the grass

That’s the oldest rhyme in the book, ain’t it?

And I’m sorry

I want to sound just like the sea

Crashing on the sandy shore

Soft, smooth as the summer wind

Whirling under distant clouds

Splashing shapes of salmon and crimson

Over the quiet, impossible sea

Over the vast, incredible sky

I’m sorry, I couldn’t decide

I have no rhythm

— Won’t even try

Maybe that’s what’s

Wrong all along

I can’t be good at

What I haven’t been bad at

And I’m so goddamn sorry

I sometimes think

If I think sparse enough

I’ll just melt myself

Or disintegrate

Or just fade away

Like the morning mist

But these sudden bursts

Of feelings and words

Pull me back inside

And I’m obliged

To ask

Why do you come here?

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